


You're An Idiot

by BookwormByNight



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Boys Kissing, Dysfunctional Family, First Kiss, Forbidden Love, How Do I Tag, I'm new at this, Kyoya being pissy, Love Confessions, M/M, Surprise Kissing, Tamaki being dramatic, kinda i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26185399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookwormByNight/pseuds/BookwormByNight
Summary: For a second, Kyoya didn’t move, frozen in place and lips slightly ajar against Tamaki’s. Anxiety and guilt flooded Tamaki’s stomach like he had just chugged a bucket of ice water. Had he acted too soon? Maybe he had been wrong! Had he gone too far out on a limb? Had he ruined his friendship with Kyoya? He began to pull back, regretting everything.But then Kyoya started kissing back, and Tamaki couldn’t think anymore.
Relationships: Ootori Kyouya/Suoh Tamaki
Comments: 4
Kudos: 135





	You're An Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that the summary is the only piece of this work that is told from Tamaki’s perspective, as that was the original prompt and I just sort of… took it in my own direction.
> 
> Thank you so much to Desrani Sho, Fuzzy footie pajamas, and coleytaylor on FN, and @joleneAdelia on Wattpad for helping me edit and improve this fic! Also, thanks to @awesomelgk for helping me get my prompt off the ground in the beginning! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran High School Host Club.

"-and then the centerpiece would burst into a downfall of rose petals!" Tamaki finished with a flourish of his arm.

Kyoya barely blinked. "Tamaki, that would be extremely expensive."

Tamaki slumped back against the wall they were both leaning against, before sticking his beautiful face in Kyoya’s with a hopeful expression. "But I'm sure you could make it happen! It would be the best gala any of our little kittens have ever seen!"

"No."

Kyoya slid his glasses a little further up his nose and went back to trying to calculate the rapidly depleting budget ( _ again _ ). 

The club's opening time was only five minutes away. A small flurry of activity went around the room as Haruhi set out cakes while Honey rambled to her with Usa-chan in his arms, the twins did each other’s makeup, and Mori took an unneeded prop out of the room. Kyoya had wanted to get as much work done as he could before he had to change into another of Tamaki's over-the-top costumes. Unfortunately for him, Tamaki had decided to bounce over in his usual dazzling cloud of sparkles, and as a result, Kyoya was stuck talking to him for over ten minutes. Not that he really minded.

"Please?" begged Tamaki, sidling up closer to him.

"No."

"Please?" Tamaki's voice was getting more pouty as the conversation went on. Kyoya swallowed.

"No."

Apparently Tamaki had decided it was time to pull out the big guns. He took Kyoya's chin in his hand and locked their eyes together.  _ Puppy face. Shit.  _ "Pwease?" whined Tamaki, eyes large and sparkling.

Moving his face out of Tamaki's grip, Kyoya allowed the tiniest of smiles to pull at the corners of his lips. "You're an idiot."

Silence settled in for a moment. Kyoya went back to the budget, pen scratching equations on the pages of his little black notebook.

“...Oh,” said Tamaki dumbfoundedly.

“Hm?” asked Kyoya, barely paying attention.

“Kyoya?”

“What?

“Well… I… Do you…?”

“Spit it out, Tamaki. I’m trying to get work done.”

Tamaki didn’t speak. Kyoya glanced over at him, Tamaki’s fuzzy, pale golden outline in his peripheral vision. Their eyes met. Kyoya briefly saw something harden in Tamaki’s before he turned back to his work for the hundredth time.

“Well, shove me off if I’m wrong, but… um.”

Kyoya barely had time to look up before he felt a firm, tentative kiss placed on his mouth. From  _ Tamaki _ . Tamaki’s lips. He dropped his notebook; it fell to the floor with a slap. Tamaki stepped in front of him, crowding him against the wall. One elegant hand rested on his cheek, the other on the marble by his shoulder. Gasps from the other hosts barely registered in Kyoya’s normally fast-working brain, because all he could really comprehend was the fact that the boy he'd loved since middle school was  _ kissing _ him.

Then he realized that he wasn’t kissing back. Tamaki started to back away, uncertainty and regret on his face.

Immediately, Kyoya grabbed Tamaki by the neck and pulled him right back again. Tamaki groaned into his mouth, and it was the most deliciously pleasing thing Kyoya had ever experienced.

_ Make him do that again _ .

Kyoya decided to do his best. Even if he did have no idea how.

His glasses were digging into the bridge of his nose painfully, but Kyoya refused to pull away long enough to fix it. However, it seemed to bother Tamaki too. For a split second, he pulled away, and plucked Kyoya’s glasses right off his face, before lowering his hand quickly and letting them drop to the floor by his notebook. A thought briefly crossed Kyoya's mind that maybe Tamaki should have been more careful. Then a louder thought drowned it out, convincing him that he didn’t care.

They pressed closer, receiving shocks of pleasure with every touch. Tamaki separated from Kyoya for just a second, making Kyoya whine the most embarrassing sound (god, what did this boy  _ do _ to him?), and then Tamaki went in for his neck, and--

“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!!!”

They jumped apart, startled, like deer caught in the headlights. In the doorway, the blurry outlines of three yellow-clad girls stood, eyes as wide as saucers. Kyoya stared at them in a panic, brain too foggy to do anything else, and for an excruciating minute, nobody in the room dared to breathe.

“We  _ have _ to tell Maki!” one of them shouted, before scampering off.

The second chased after her. “Wait for me!” she screamed.

“Oh my god, oh my god!!” the last remaining one squealed, still in the doorway. “When Aiko said it’s better to go early, I never expected this!!!” She turned on her heel, and ran after her friends.

Another silent beat.

"Well, I think it's time you two got ready; the club's about to start," said Hikaru with a grin on his face.

Kaoru chuckled. "Keep it PG in the dressing room!"

Finally, Kyoya found it in himself to come to his senses. He proceeded to snatch his things off the floor, put his glasses back in place on his nose, and walk out as if nothing was wrong; as if he simply had something else to do. He didn’t spare Tamaki a single glance.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” pleaded Tamaki. “I’m sorry.” 

Kyoya didn’t know how to respond. He decided that a good way didn’t exist.

“Forget about it,” he sighed, before walking away. Black notebook in hand, he headed off to the cafeteria so he could buy lunch.

On the way, several students stared at him, while he did his best to feign nonchalance. If anyone thought badly of him for kissing a guy, they didn’t voice their views. (Kyoya  _ did  _ have a reputation, after all, even if it was a bit battered after the incident.)

However, some people had  _ no _ problem squealing about the fact that he might be gay. (He was, but that was beside the point). A couple of the first year students got nosebleeds as he passed them, some guys gave him looks that made him both turned on and uncomfortable, and even a goddamn teacher stopped him in the hallway to “talk about the rumors that have been circulating as of late.”

Kyoya loved that little French fucker, but did he  _ have _ to make his life so hard? Tamaki’s little stunt didn’t even succeed in doing anything (Kyoya wasn’t even sure what the point was), other than practically outing him! It figured that a few of the most juvenile, gossip-loving girls in the school had to walk in on him with his crush  _ pressing him against a wall and kissing him _ . Kyoya had been too dazed to stop them. He didn’t have time to pay the girls into silence before the word had spread through half of the academy.

Kyoya walked over to the Host Club’s regular table with his lunch, dropping his stuff on the table with a sigh, before sitting down and eating lunch like nothing at all was wrong.

“Rough day, huh, Senpai?” asked Haruhi. Damnit. Figures that she would be the one to notice.

“That,” he replied, “is  _ none _ of your business.” He took a bite of his food to enunciate his point.

“I’m sorry.” She glanced down at her own food for a second, before turning back to him. “For what it’s worth, I’ll support you no matter what. It doesn’t matter to me whether you’re gay or straight or whatever.”

Also figures that she would simultaneously ruin and brighten his day at the same time. It was astonishing how alike she and Tamaki were in that aspect.

Purpley-blue eyes bored into Kyoya as Tamaki dropped into the seat on the other side of him with a sigh similar to his own. “Hey, guys,” he greeted. Kyoya lowered his head so the light would reflect off his glasses, and Tamaki wouldn’t be able to see his eyes. He presumed it worked when Tamaki sighed a second time and started eating.

Suddenly, the twins popped up on either side of the table. "Is Mommy and Daddy having a lover's spat?" the twins leered happily, spelling out nothing but trouble. Kyoya resisted strangling them.

* * *

Kyoya fought to keep his pace steady and his face passive, his heart beating frantically as he walked down the long, modestly furnished hallways of his mansion. After a week and a half, Kyoya had thought (hoped) that word of what had happened between him and Tamaki had escaped Yoshio Ootori’s notice. Then a highly worried maid had knocked on his door and told him to clean up and meet his father in his office, causing Kyoya’s anxieties to hit him again at full force.

The soft  _ ‘tap tap’ _ of his shoes against shining tile was much too loud for Kyoya’s liking. It echoed in the empty hallway off the tile threateningly. He suspected that was why his father had chosen the tiled-floor design over carpet. (“It looks more professional; clean-cut and modern,” he had explained to Fuyumi when they were getting the house redone. Bullshit.)

“Father? You sent for me?” said Kyoya, rapping on the thick, white-washed, wooden door a few times with his knuckles.

“Yes, Kyoya. Come in, and take a seat.” His head was tilted forwards so the light reflected off his glasses, shielding his eyes. His fingers were criss-crossed together in a serious manner - not a good sign.

Kyoya did as he was told, closing the door behind him. It swung shut with a resounding click that reminded Kyoya of a key in a lock. “What is it that you need?” he asked, insanely proud of how well he kept his voice free of emotion as he lowered himself into the chair on the other side of his father’s desk.

“Yuzuru Suoh contacted me this morning to talk about you and his son; do you know why this is?”

Kyoya continued to keep his face blank. “It would depend on what he wanted to talk about, sir.”

The senior Ootori leaned closer. “He told me that you and the Suoh boy have gotten wrapped up in a spot of gossip that has been circulating around the school. It appears that people have been saying that you publicly kissed each other.”

It hadn’t been  _ particularly _ public. “...Yes.”

Yoshio Ootori now leaned back, pushing his glasses up his face to reflect the light again in the exact same manner Kyoya practiced. His father had always been better at it. “I’m very disappointed in you, Kyoya,” he said neutrally.

“I know, sir.”

“I’ve always expected better of you. I expect you not to do anything of the sort again. You know that we have a reputation to uphold, and, as my son, you are also representative of this company and this family. You would do well not to tarnish it further.”

Kyoya wanted to scoff. He didn’t. “Yes, sir.”

“And after this fiasco, I expect you to leave the Suoh boy alone. Do not talk to him again.”

Blood pounded in his ears. Slowly, steadily, Kyoya felt the urge to cry begin replace his earlier indignance. He didn’t do that, either. He hadn’t in years.

The only trouble was, he couldn’t agree to his father’s demand, either.

“I’m sorry, Father, but I can’t make that happen. I apologize,” he said. His hands shook as he stood up. “Good day.”

Yoshio Ootori stood up as well, looking every bit as powerful and menacing as an emperor. Kyoya flinched. Damnit. “You may  _ not  _ speak to me like that!” snarled the elder. “You will  _ not _ speak to the Suoh boy again.”

“No!” Kyoya surprised himself. “I will  _ not  _ stop talking to Tamaki!”

His father’s hand twitched. Kyoya waited for the slap.

“Get out of my sight,” he ordered instead. He didn’t need to tell Kyoya twice.

* * *

_ Was it for nothing? _ Kyoya pondered the next day, watching Tamaki flirt with giggling girls across the room. The blonde glanced up for a moment, and violet eyes met silver. Then Tamaki looked back to the girl who was practically on his lap.

Kyoya’s spidery fingers came up to rub his temples and he let out a little sigh. Why had life become so complicated?

Finally, the club ended, leaving tittering ladies to walk out, the majority of their faces still flushed. Out of the corner of his eye, Kyoya saw Haruhi start attempting to wipe tables while the twins heckled her. Honey and Mori started packing up to leave quickly - Kyoya briefly remembered writing down that Mori had kendo practice that day. Tamaki did nothing. He sat on the couch in the same place the girls had left him. Kyoya tucked his notebook away and signaled to Tamaki to get moving. He still didn’t even twitch.

This wouldn’t do. At all. He didn’t give up the last shreds of respect from his father up for the boy he loved to stop talking to him entirely! Kyoya begrudgingly walked over and sat next to his friend. “Tamaki?” he asked, worriedly.

Tamaki smiled bitterly, showing off pearly whites.

“Is this what it takes to get you to talk to me? I have to cast myself out of your life for you to acknowledge that I was there?” he asked softly. His golden hair shadowed his eyes. He didn’t look up from the hands in his lap.

“Excuse me?”

“Why are you so cruel, Kyoya? Or is it life that is cruel, and you are simply a slave of its whims?”

Kyoya was starting to get frustrated. He did  _ not _ ask for this onslaught when he came over to check on one of the few people he cared about in his life. “Don’t you think that’s a little unreasonable?” Kyoya kept his voice light. Tamaki flinched anyway.

“Not really.”

“Well, I do,” replied Kyoya through gritted teeth. Finally, Tamaki lifted his head.

“Do you hate me, Kyoya?” he asked. The clinking of china teacups and saucers from somewhere to the left stopped, and double doors slammed shut behind Kyoya’s back. It was followed by a very pregnant pause.

Tamaki looked back down at his hands. “That’s what I thought.”

“No!”

Kyoya was standing. He towered over Tamaki with all the rage of a terrified demon. “ _ No! _ Stop it, Tamaki!  _ Stop it! _ ” Grabbing Tamaki by the shoulders, Kyoya bowed his head, shaking slightly. Tamaki could only blink in surprise.

“Huh. I think this counts as the second time you’ve done something like this, mon ami,” he said after a couple seconds. Kyoya just continued to shake.

“You know, you should start doing something else soon, or else this is going to get awkward. Are you going to laugh again?”

Kyoya trembled for another twenty seconds, before shaking his head and dropping to his knees. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. The words tasted bitter on his tongue. “I’m sorry,” he said again, much like Tamaki had for the past week and a half.

As if Kyoya were made of porcelain, Tamaki delicately lifted his chin so their eyes could meet. Once again, amethyst clashed with stainless steel. “What are you sorry for, mon ami?” Tamaki replied in a hushed whisper.

Kyoya shook his head again, averting his eyes. “Don’t call me that,” he muttered. Tamaki’s face fell. “I don’t deserve to be called that. I’m a terrible friend.”

“I forgive you--” started Tamaki.

“You shouldn’t,” said Kyoya. “It’s such a stupid thing to do.”

“You always call me an idiot.”

“This is why.”

“I don’t care,” Tamaki finalized. “I forgive you anyways. Always. Even if you hate me.”

Now Kyoya did laugh - well, chuckled darkly. “I could never hate you. Even if I tried.”

“Why?”

“Because you make me  _ feel _ things, Tamaki!” Kyoya stood up again. His hands had somehow gotten into Tamaki’s. He didn’t let them go. “It’s so  _ weird _ , but you make me  _ happy _ , even when you’re the most frustrating person on Earth! I could never hate you.”

With a slight tug on Kyoya’s hands, Tamaki was standing too. His pianist fingers rubbed circles on Kyoya’s knuckles, and Kyoya enjoyed the sensation more than he would like to admit. “That sounds a lot like a love confession, mon ami,” he said.

“Maybe it is,” snapped Kyoya, although his voice held no true bite. “Don’t call me that.”

Tamaki’s eyes hardened. “Fine then, mon amour,” he said, and then his lips were on Kyoya’s for the second time in two weeks, and Kyoya forgot how to think.

This kiss was different than the first. Where the first one had been cautious, then needy, this one was entirely fuelled by passion. The fire Tamaki put into it made Kyoya’s head spin deliriously. He was doing his best to keep in time, but his inexperience was a disadvantage. Regardless, from the sounds coming from Tamaki’s mouth, Kyoya guessed he was enjoying it.

Suddenly, Kyoya’s back was against the magenta cushions of the couch, and Tamaki was on top of him. His heart felt like bursting. He wove his hands through gold strands of silky hair, pulling Tamaki impossibly closer, and silently vowed to never release him again. Tamaki responded by tilting Kyoya’s head back a little further, pushing his glasses off his face, and deepening the kiss.

They continued to kiss for a little while longer - Kyoya wouldn’t be able to tell you how many minutes, but it definitely didn’t feel like there were enough - until they broke apart, gasping for breath.

_ Pant, pant.  _ Tamaki was breathing as if he had just run a mile, and his lips were red and swollen. Kyoya immediately decided that he wanted to see Tamaki like that again. He reached above him and searched for his fallen glasses without looking away, hoping to be able to gaze at the scene before him better.  _ Pant, pant. _

“You… you know what this means for our lives, right?” Kyoya said after a minute of trying to figure out how to make sound come out of his mouth again. “You realize that your grandmother won’t approve?”

_ Pant, pant _ . The sound was driving Kyoya wild. “My grandmother doesn't know about any of this. My father was sympathetic enough to look past it as long as I ‘got out while I still could,’” said Tamaki, pushing his hair out of his eyes.  _ Pant, pant _ . Holy crap.

"But you didn't." It was a statement, not a question.

"No."

A beat of silence. 

“Your father talked to mine,” said Kyoya. It was only mildly accusatory, but Tamaki flinched as if he had been scalded. He buried his head in his hands.

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.” When he looked up, Tamaki’s eyes were clouded with regret.

“... It’s fine.” If Kyoya wasn’t an Ootori, he’d avert his eyes. He instead found his glasses wedged between cushions and stuck them on his face. “I’m the one who ruined everything for myself, anyway.”

Tamaki frowned, worry mixing smoothly into the guilt. “What does that mean?” he asked cautiously, slowly taking Kyoya’s glasses right off his nose again and sticking them securely in the periwinkle breast pocket of his blazer.

“Tamaki, give me my glasses back.”

“No. Don’t avoid my question.”

“I--” Ootoris don’t stutter. Here Kyoya was, stuttering. “My father wanted me to stop talking to you. I refused. I’m almost entirely sure that if I ever am able to get a spot in his company, the best place I’ll get is some commonplace worker, now.” Glasses, he needed his glasses. This was entirely too vulnerable - which was saying something, considering what just happened.

Violet eyes, which had previously been boring into Kyoya intensely, softened. “Oh, Kyoya.”

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything, silly.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” Tamaki stood up, fiery passion sparkling behind his irises. He clenched his fist in front of his face, as if he were some sort of powerful hero. “If you can forsake your family, I can too!” He turned back to Kyoya again, taking both hands in his, down on one knee. “We’ll build our own company, and our own wealth, mon amour.”

Kyoya let out a breath of air. “You’re an idiot.”

“I love you too.”

And then they were kissing again, and this one was different, too. It was sweet, tender. It almost made Kyoya believe that everything was actually going to be okay.


End file.
